I never thought I wanted children. I was fortunate enough to have a father that never questioned my ability to do anything I set my mind to do, a mother who had her own degree in a science field atypical of women in her generation and I had just enough hutzpah to believe I could do anything. Growing up in the 70s and 80s, it seemed ridiculous to consider having a family when I was determined to be a career woman. I took the hardest classes in high school that I could despite the times and found myself working through a chemical engineering curriculum in college. There wasn’t going to be any MRS degree for me. Life was black and white, based on data and right or wrong.

A difficult breakup after college brought to light some things that had been hidden from me and taught me that the world isn’t black and white but that there are shades of gray. Some self-reflection taught me that I always had the decision to view the world in a positive light or a negative one. I worked on myself over the next two years reading books like How to Win Friends and Influence People andThe Power of Positive Thinking as well as The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.

My views on the possibility of becoming a mother changed when I met my future husband, at work no less in a large chemical company. I could see a long-term future with him and it included one with children. By that point in my life, I was ready. I learned that it’s okay to change your mind. Changing your mind can be a new path on your evolution as a person.

We were blessed that getting pregnant wasn’t difficult and by the time I was 32, we were expecting our first child. From the time we were engaged, we worked on our genealogy, combing through old records prior to the ease of computers and traveled to countries to see dusty old books filled with generations of history. We looked over common names, discovering lineage and blended our two trees together. We learned that family is shared history and love for one another.

Our child arrived with a head full of dark hair, a fiery personality and I was consumed with a determination to be the best mother that I could. Circumstances prevented me from returning to the work I was doing and after careful consideration, we decided to have one parent at home and I set about my new role as mother and head of household operations with the same rigor that I had my education and work career. I pinched pennies, kept schedules, and along the way, determined the type of mother I wanted to be. I wanted to be one that didn’t yell or lose my patience. I wanted to be one that educated (even if I didn’t enjoy arts and crafts) and I wanted to be one that encouraged my child to be whoever they wanted to be and the best they could be with no strings attached. Perfection not requested or required even though I demanded it from myself. When my second child came long 23 months later, I battled postpartum depression and wondered whether I had failed. I sought treatment and realized that I could do this and do it well. I learned that children are loving and forgiving and that I had the strength to do the same. I also learned that “Perfection is the enemy of Good Enough.”

In third grade, my child came to me and said, “Mom, I want to cut my hair and wear boys clothes”. By this point in my life as a mother, something inside of me started whispering, “Go with this.” I said yes and saw how happy my child was. Everything about this child screamed “out of the box”. Every costume was a boy/male character. My child was rough and tough and lived life ferociously. Pokemon Cards, anime characters and more were the norm. That didn’t mean we didn’t have American Girl dolls and the few random princess toys at the house for both children. My child was just a happy child. Traveling to China, we struggled with our translator to find the words to describe why my “daughter” looked like a boy but not once were we met with disdain. I learned that I could live in the shades of gray even when I preferred the black and white.

The middle school years were rougher. Schools with dress codes for special events, comparisons of fashion among pre-teens and teens made life more complicated. My child continued to want to live in truth but struggled to find a comfortable place in the “norm”. Together, we pushed boundaries as much as we could. At some point along the way, the request for the first binder was made for a character cos-play costume. Again, I found myself fighting internally but supporting the endeavor. We discussed the physical effects of wearing one long term. We tried sports bras and other options. Little by little, I noticed that the binder was being worn more often and we had to replace and keep more than one for washing. I learned to live with some discomfort for myself when challenging preconceived ideas.I was growing and evolving knowing we were on a different path together and as a family.

Living in a school district that allowed for the choice of high school, we prayed and discussed and ultimately decided on our district high school with a television and radio career pathway to help our child with the best chance of success for a career in film they had known they wanted since childhood. God knew that our choice was about more than that and led us to the best possible place for our child to be, to grow and to transition. It certainly wasn’t without its significant challenges given the student body population, but God had sent us loving and caring teachers, amazing friends in that population, new parent friends and a principal that would ultimately embrace my child’s new vision of themselves. I learned to have faith and to be an advocate.

There were still stormy waters. The same depression I had seen in myself, I saw in my child. Reclusive behaviors: spending too much time alone or locked away in bedrooms, I sometimes checked just to make sure my child hadn’t done anything drastic. Those were scary moments, but I was going to fight for my child’s survival no matter what the cause. I learned that I could be a mama bear.

Just prior to graduation, in February 2015, I discovered a letter posted on Facebook declaring to the world what I had long suspected and needed him to discover for himself. I’ve been asked if I was upset that he didn’t choose to tell his parents first but when I asked him, his response made total sense, “Mom, I knew you’d be okay with it.” The love and support we received from family and friends in that moment continues to bring tears to my eyes. The one person he had feared telling was one of the first people to respond and said, “To thine own self be true”. I learned that we all have the power to change both on the inside and the outside.

The changes are more incremental but still momentous. Court documents officially declaring a new name, the first day of testosterone shots, a new driver’s license and more steps to come like a new passport and surgery. These steps overlay all the milestones in any young adult’s life: first day of college, turning 21, anticipated graduation from college and we walk alongside our son not holding him up any longer but giving him wings to fly. I have learned that all parents’ job is to work themselves out of a job regardless of the circumstances. In this, we are all the same.

Life will not always be easy but as I consult more and parent less, I see a new role for myself. One that advocates for other children who need someone in their corner. I’m not sure how that will take shape, but it has begun with educating those around me, listening when people come to me with questions and living our life as a family out and proud following the lead of my son who is open to everyone in person and on social media. I have learned that I can learn as much from my children as they can from me and parenting is the best job I never thought I wanted.

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

Some moments are indelibly etched in our memories. For me, the way my husband looked at me, with such love and pride, as the doors to the chapel opened and the Wedding March began, is one of those happy memories that stays with me. (In September, we will be celebrating our 25th anniversary). The joy of holding our first baby, for the first time, nearly 22 years ago – and again, nearly 19 years ago, when our youngest was born – makes up another happy memory.

Then there are the other memories…the ones that send the world tilting, crazily, on it’s side. Shared memories, such as watching, with absolute horror, as the twin towers in NYC fell – and the uncertainty and fear for our safety, and our children’s futures, that we felt. The uncertainty of what to do when our oldest injured herself the first time, the fear when she stopped breathing for a second, (that felt like an eternity), before letting out a blood-curdling cry. (She’s fine by the way).

And the way time absolutely stood still when my husband told us that our youngest was bi-sexual. It was February 24th, 2017. We had just enjoyed a wonderful evening with another couple, whom we have been friends with for years. During dinner, they had told us that their son had proposed to his girlfriend – outwardly, I had congratulated them, while, inwardly, I fretted that our son would ever talk to a girl, let alone go out on a date! So, on the way home, as these thoughts were going through my head, my husband told me about a recent conversation he had had with our son. He told me that our Ryan, then 17, was bi-sexual. And, the world tilted – and I felt sick, and filled with disbelief, and held onto hope that, maybe, he was just confused. But, when we got home, I told that precious child that I loved him, and nothing could ever change that, and assured him that God loves him, too – and he said, “I know”. I went upstairs, to our bedroom, that night and searched for what a Christian parent should do in this situation…and the overwhelming answer was just unthinkable! No way would I kick my child out! Then, I saw a loving response that mentioned Linda Mueller Robertson’s story. I read her story, with tears in my eyes, and, from there I found the wonderful Facebook groups.

Those first few weeks, after that revelation, I was a bit of a zombie. I didn’t sleep well, as my nights were peppered with me waking up, pleading with God to not let this be true. The world would not be kind to my child, if this was true! Then, one night, as I stood, shivering in the backyard with our puppy, (wishing he would hurry and do his business), I looked up at the vast array of stars and just cried out to God – why me? Why us? We homeschool, we take our children to church every Sunday! Why? And, in answer, I felt peace, and I knew all would be well. A week, or so, later, I dreamt about spiders – not a scary dream, a dream about all of the vast variety of spiders, some of which we haven’t even discovered, yet – and I woke knowing that God was telling me that His creation is vaster, and more diverse, that I had ever realized. And, again, I felt peace.

Our church has a prophecy ministry. Now, I will be honest, I was always a bit sceptical about this kind of thing, but I am starting to rethink this, as well. A couple of months after Ryan had come out to us, my husband expressed a wish to go to the prophecy ministry…so I went along. Those people told me that I am beloved, (indeed the name, “Amy”, means beloved), and that, because of this, God was going to show me more about love. And, He was going to surround me with people who were outcasts, who are often avoided by others. And, He was going to make me like a fighter jet. And I got chills – and knew that there would be no turning back, we were well, and truly, on this journey…and I felt peace.

On July 22, 2017, our son, who had just completed the rank of Eagle Scout, turned 18. We had planned to go on a canoe trip, since he enjoyed this sort of thing (my husband and I are not swimmers, so we were a bit nervous), but there had been flooding. Instead, we went to dinner at Red Lobster, Ryan’s choice, had cake & ice cream, and planned to watch a movie at home. After our cake, Ryan disappeared into the bathroom for close to an hour. He had been having stomach issues so, while concerned, we were not completely surprised…until my husband received a text from Ryan. This text made the world tilt, again, and go spinning in a completely opposite direction. Our Ryan, the text explained, was actually our daughter. Doug and I assured our youngest of our love – and tried to go on as though nothing had happened. And there was no peace in my soul that night.

Since turning 18, our youngest has become a new, even more delightful, person. We have two daughters now. Our oldest is Elizabeth, and she is 21, will be finishing her senior year of college this year, has plans to marry her boyfriend, (we like him, so it’s a good thing), and go to graduate school. And we have our soon to be 19 year old daughter, Chloe. Every day, it seems, we see a new aspect of this child, whom we, thought, we have known since birth. She is so different now, and, yet, the same. She is still the loving, caring, hilarious child, with impeccable comedic timing, we have always known. At first the changes were nearly overwhelming! There were the struggles, on our part, of getting used to the new name and pronouns. The struggles to maintain a poker face when seeing that child in a dress for the first time. The new appointments on our calendar – therapy sessions, doctor’s appointments, groups for LGBTQ teens, and groups for their parents, (I had been surprised to find that nothing like this existed in our area, so I started the groups – so this level of busyness is my fault), have kept us running. And my husband, Elizabeth, and I have been trying to keep up with Chloe, as she blossoms into the person she was meant to be.

I often reflect on the past…were there signs, that we missed, that our youngest was transgender? In retrospect, yes…at the time, no. There was the lack of interest in sports – but, neither my husband, nor I are athletic, so this wasn’t a total surprise. There was the time our Elizabeth dressed her toddler “brother” in her My Size Barbie dress – and the look of absolute joy on that baby’s face! The time we went hiking through a local park, and my husband took the lead, (to go through any spider webs first), and we said, “someday, Ryan, you will be the dad, and you can walk through the webs” – and that child cried. And, there was the time, before I even had official confirmation that I was pregnant with this child, that I was awakened from a nap by a loud, booming – yet completely silent to everyone else – voice that told me that this child would be used for God’s purposes. And, as I reflect back on what this last year has been, on the new groups that have found us surrounded by people we might have, previously, avoided, (and missed out on an amazing blessing, I might add), the change in the way I view the Bible’s teachings – now, rather than being a judgmental, law-concerned Pharisee, I strive to be a Jesus follower who loves everyone, and fights for justice – the joy in our Chloe’s eyes, her willingness to share her life with us, I am filled with joy, and peace. All will be well,

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

I’m Vanessa, a 41 year old single mom of one amazing transgender son, age 9.

My Dylan, was assigned female at birth, but it wasn’t long before we noticed a rejection of everything female. Around age 2, he gravitated towards boy toys, clothes, TV shows, willfully demanding to remove his dress or hair bows.

As we followed his lead for the next few years, we assumed this to be a phase, or maybe that “she” was the proverbial tomboy. It was definitely on my radar, the possibility that he was transgender, but something I also pushed away, far out of my mind, denying that a child could know themselves well enough to realize such a thing. I was supportive of the gender fluidity of his person, yet consciously avoided researching if young children needed something more when they presented such an obvious rejection of their assigned gender.

I was scared. I was fully aware of the discrimination and difficult path this would mean for my child. And no parent wants their child’s life to be more difficult than it is a straight, cis-gender (non trans) person. So, denial suited me.

By age 5, he had consistently and persistently imaginary played as the male role, drew himself in art as male, and insisted on boy’s clothing from head to toe.

By 6, he was verbalizing that he “felt like a boy” in his “heart and mind”, even had tried on several boy’s names.

I kept an open dialogue with him, voicing my support if he was ready to make that kind of change, but he would tell me, “No, mama. I’m fine being a girl. It’s ok”.

Until it wasn’t.

By age 8, he was self-harming and isolating himself at school. He was unsure of where he fit in and was carrying around so much shame because of how he was feeling, which ultimately, and quickly, led us to his social transition.
He began using his preferred name and male pronouns at home, then with family and friends, and eventually came out at school.

A new child emerged. One I didn’t know existed. One with confidence, spark, and poise. I didn’t know how much hurt he had until he really lived his whole truth. This transformation can only be described metaphorically as a caterpillar to a beautiful, amazing butterfly. It was the most gorgeous, freeing, experience to watch my child bloom into who he really was.

As a mom, an advocate, an ally, and a recent activist, I’ve learned so much. But above all, I have realized what a true gift it is to parent this child. Yes, every child is a gift, but a raising a transgender child has brought so much clarity to my life. The amount of education that my son has provided me, the bravery he has shown, his self-advocacy and the incredible self worth that has emerged, it has truly changed me as a human. Children are brilliant and they understand so much more about themselves than we do. We simply don’t give them enough credit.

And this journey has taught me about unconditional love- not only the love that I have for him but the love that others have shown us. And it’s all been enlightening and rare and gorgeous.

Having a transgender child would have never made my top 100 list of parenting challenges, had someone asked me before having a child. But I am so glad I was chosen for the task.

It is my honor and my privilege to parent this gorgeous soul.

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

I’ve always been proud of my kids. They are considerate and kind (to everyone but each other), they are helpful, they are bright, they are articulate, and they tell the best jokes. Our den is cluttered with box forts and half-finished science experiments, and our walls are plastered with their art and school pictures. They’re the best kids any mama could ask for — and that fact has never changed, even when I realized that my freckle-faced, brown-eyed first born is transgender.

When Max (as he’s called now) told me he was a boy, he was only 2 years old. I didn’t believe him. I explained that there were a million different ways to be a girl, and that we could “redefine girly” together. Eventually we let him cut his pigtails and wear Spider-Man t-shirts, and it wasn’t too long before this kid really did look like a stereotypical boy. For years, I would correct people when they’d compliment him on what a helpful “young man” he was. Proudly, I’d boast that this was my daughter, and that there was no one right way to be a girl, and isn’t this child basically the best for ignoring cultural stereotypes, blah blah blah. This continued for years before I finally noticed the way my baby would get embarrassed, and how he’d shrink a little more every time I explained that this was actually a girl (gasp!). After enough moments like this, I started to wonder: maybe the rest of the world wasn’t misgendering my child — maybe I was.

Throughout all of this, Max was insistent, persistent, and consistent in his gender identity, and patient with me as he tried explaining in a million different ways that he was really a boy. I didn’t know that the word “transgender” even existed, let alone it could be an experience that a child could have. Yet I never questioned Max’s little sister, Lulu, on her gender identity — I had no reason to, since she identifies with the gender she was assigned at birth (a term called cisgender). Despite the fact that she’s four years younger than Max, no one has ever thought to challenge her on her gender identity. So why would anyone — including myself — think it’s okay to question Max on his?

A lot of research, prayer, communication, and discernment revealed the answers that my family was desperately seeking. A rise of visibility among young transgender Americans like Jazz Jennings encouraged families like mine to start talking with each other about their gender expansive kids, free from the shame or guilt that so many of us have been told to believe — that we had somehow failed our children by “letting” them be trans. Yet nothing could be farther from the truth. Because while a 2014 study by the Williams Institute showed that 41% of trans youth have attempted suicide at least once (a number that is nine times higher than the national average), those same transgender children experience the same levels of mental and physical health as their cisgender peers when they are supported, loved, affirmed, and embraced at home and at school. By rejecting a child’s gender expression and identity, we as their parents are slowly destroying them. The decision (if you could call it that) became clear at that point — Max didn’t choose to be transgender, but my husband and I chose to love him wholeheartedly. Ultimately, it was more important to us to support our son, than to risk burying our daughter.

These things take time. This wasn’t an overnight revelation, nor a quick social transition. But after years of watching, embracing, and supporting Max in everything from sports to dress to pronouns, he gradually became the person he was always meant to be — a brilliant boy with a soft spot in his heart for cats, tacos, and ukuleles.

This Pride Month, I am incredibly proud of Max for teaching me as his mama the true meaning of unconditional love and for changing the world in the process. When I was pregnant with him, I never cared if I was having a boy or girl — all I wanted was a healthy, happy baby. Nothing about him has changed except for his pronouns. Unfortunately, there are far too many LGBTQ kids who are kicked out of their homes, disowned by their parents, and ostracized by their friends once they “come out”. According to a report by Chapin Hall at the University of Chicago, queer-identified youth have a 120% higher risk of reporting homelessness than their straight or cisgender peers. Additionally, one in 30 LGBTQ teens have experienced homelessness at some point in the last 12 months. The people who should be protecting these vulnerable children are the very same ones who are harming them. Rather than being their child’s biggest fan, far too many parents have become their child’s biggest bully. And it breaks my damn heart. Because quite honestly, if it’s hard to love your kids, then you’re doing it wrong. Full stop.

Max challenges me every day to live my truth out loud, to be a better person, to live openly and honestly, and to advocate for the vulnerable, the marginalized, and the invisible. By being true to himself he has opened the eyes and melted the hearts of people across the country, and has influenced policy as a result. When Max had anti-LGBTQ Attorney General Ken Paxton over for dinner — a man who was actively suing the Obama administration over the DOJ’s transgender protection guidelines in an attempt to strip away the visibility and safety of hundreds of thousands of trans Americans in the process — and showed him just how adorable he was with his cute magic tricks and his Pokemon collection, the entire state of Texas watched. When Max was invited to the White House to meet President Obama, the most powerful person in the world paid attention to his story. And when Max travelled to Austin last year to practically beg Texas legislators to stop bullying him and to please not pass any “bathroom bills”, a reporter saw this sweet boy — exhausted, frustrated, and crying in my arms as we I comforted him on the cold, granite floor outside of Governor Abbott’s office. That reporter took a picture that went viral, and people from literally around the world saw what happens when we treat transgender kids as political pawns in pissing contests.

Of the 30 anti-LGBTQ bills that were filed in Texas in 2017 (which, for those of you keeping score at home, is more than any state legislature in the history of this country), we were able to defeat 29 of them — and, to our great relief, not a single bathroom bill passed. I truly believe this positive outcome — in Texas, of all places! — is because of the hard work and sweet faces of kids like Max, who is part of the newest generation of a half century’s worth of LGBTQ activists.

Pride began with another transgender individual: Marsha P Johnson, a trans woman of color who was tired of living in fear and being pushed to the shadows. So when the police showed up again at the Stonewall Inn on June 28, 1969, Ms. Johnson took a stand, and in turn started a revolution that we are still fighting today. Max is one of this revolution’s youngest warriors: but instead of fists and stones, he’s fighting back with his words.

And Max isn’t the only one. Across the country, we are seeing tiny-but-fierce trans girls like Kai Shappley and Marilyn Morrison living their lives authentically and elevating the conversation about gender and what it means to be nice to each other. We have National Geographic cover girls like Avery Jackson, living in America’s heartland, and bringing visibility to an issue and experience that so few of us had thought about before she came along. And we have national treasures like Gavin Grimm, a transgender young man who sued his Virginia high school for his right to use the bathroom, and was subsequently recognized in a federal court decision for being such an important human-rights hero, that the court’s opinion will bring you to tears.

This Pride Month, and every month, I am proud of the LGBTQ Americans who live boldly every day — whose very existence is its own form of protest. And yet, Max and his peers don’t have political agendas — they’re just kids, worried about the same things that your kids are worried about: whether or not they’ll get to watch one more cartoon before bed, how much money the tooth fairy is going to bring them, and if the cat is going to be okay after eating that weird bug. Somehow, though, that very act of living out loud AND being simultaneously incredibly relatable and adorable is exactly the thing that is changing the world for the better. We saw it during the fight for marriage equality and the overturning of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” and we’re seeing it today as we continue to fight for federal protections like the Equality Act, which would guarantee that Max could never be fired from his job or denied housing or services simply because he is transgender.

My son is just one in an army of hope, and I will follow him wherever he goes. He hasn’t led me astray yet — in fact, I and countless others are better for knowing him — and I believe that he and his peers will create a better, brighter, more equal future for us all if we are willing to give them the space they need to lead — not just during Pride month, but year round.

Amber Briggle is a member of Serendipitydodah for Moms who also blogs at Love to the Max

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

These are some of the words that come to mind when I think about the past 18 months of my life since my oldest child came out of the closet as transgender {female to male}. He was fifteen, at the time, and living as Kate, the daughter I had given birth to and loved with all my heart.

In that conversation, he told me he had never felt like a girl and that he couldn’t keep on trying to be someone he wasn’t. I listened to his story, told him I loved him more than anything in this world, and how honored I was that he had trusted me with such a deep and personal truth. And when he asked if I was surprised, I said no. You see, at age two, he had told me he wanted to be a boy, and at age six he told me he wasn’t my daughter…he was my son. So I had an inkling that this was a possibility, if not a probability. We had many more conversations in the weeks following his disclosure, and as a family, came up with a plan for Kate {she/her} to transition to Kaden {he/him}.

My emotions were all over the place. I felt deep sorrow that my child had walked this earth in silence, unable to express his true identity for fear of rejection from his family, especially from his dad and I. I felt grief for a loss that I couldn’t quite define. After all, I still had my child, but I was trading what I knew…a daughter, even as unhappy, and in pain as she was, for someone and some life I couldn’t see, understand, or feel yet. The temptation to run away and hide was unbelievable. I felt moments of gut wrenching pain and wondered if I would ever feel joy again. I was scared for Kaden’s future and all of ours, too. I was scared that he would be the victim of violence or experience horrible pain from surgeries or loss of relationships. I was scared that my younger kids would suffer, as well. I was also scared that we would lose our family, friends and church. That being said, I was convinced that allowing our child to be his authentic self was the only right decision to make, no matter the consequences to the rest of us. I knew this choice was a matter of life and death as the suicide rate for transgender youth is alarmingly high. There were a few moments, however, when I considered resisting his transition, but a darkness I cannot describe, would come over me and I would feel immense pain which would only resolve when I let go of the fight to keep Kate. I now realize that those dark moments were when I was stuck in my head, trying to logic it all away. When I would check in with my heart, feel the unconditional love I had for my baby, and shut down my fear based thoughts, everything became clear. Welcoming Kaden was our only choice.

Those first few weeks after the haircut and the beginning of Kaden’s social transition, in December 2016, were difficult, to say the least. Everything felt new and unfamiliar. I wasn’t used to Kaden. I struggled with his name and pronouns and I did not yet recognize this person living in my home. That first week of school, as Kaden, was so hard on him and yet he told me EVERY SINGLE DAY, that as painful as it was {being talked about, being told he was an abomination to God, being rejected by some of his bible study friends, etc.}, it was far easier than living a lie {pretending to be ok, so that everyone else could feel ok.}. There are some things in life that you just can’t wrap your head around, so you must use your heart instead. That was, and continues to be, a huge lesson I was learning more and more each day. I had to trust that God had us in His capable hands and that He would get us through….though I had my moments of doubt. Thankfully, Kaden only had to endure one week of school before Christmas break, which was a huge blessing and absolutely part of God’s amazing timing. The break gave us all some time to get acquainted and adjusted to this massive change in our lives. I still did not see the light at the end of the tunnel, and just came to accept that our path would be illuminated bit by bit, and the best thing I could do for myself and my family, was to stay in the present moment. I wasn’t to know what our future held, so I needed to let go.

After a few months, I began to feel a distinct change within our family. We went from living with a kid who hated himself and resented having to play a role, to having one who lived authentically and free. He was no longer angry that his brother had the life he always wanted and no longer hated being grouped with a sister he didn’t relate to. He was so much happier and his relationships with Cameron and Claire changed dramatically. He was patient, kind, and gentler with his words than he had ever been before. He also had empathy for the challenges and pain they were experiencing with his transition. And they responded to this new dynamic with acceptance and love. It was so beautiful. I remember being on a road trip with the three of them, in April 2017, and was blown away at how well they got along together and truly enjoyed one another’s presence. I told Scott then that I wouldn’t go back to the way it was, even if I could.

Our life since Kaden began his transition has been excruciating and extraordinary, both of which I will continue to share about on my blog. Much of my writing will be about Kaden, but I’ll also share about my own transformation through this journey of supporting and unconditionally loving my transgender child. I hope you’ll join me.

xoxo

Jamie Parnell is a member of Serendipitydodah for Moms who also blogs at My Life in Trans

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and presently has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

A Mom’s Perspective of Pride
For me, PRIDE Month is a time to reflect on a journey that I take as the mom of a gay son. Trust me, it is a journey like no other.

The journey began the day my child came to me and shared a deeply held secret that he had attempted to hide for his entire life. I felt shocked at first. Shocked that there could be something so BIG that I didn’t know about my own child. I interact with him every day, I lived with this person, I raised him, I thought I knew every… single… thing there was to know and then BAM, he tells me he is gay. The initial shock hit like a freight train.

Soon, the shock subsided. It happened rather quickly. Next came remorse. Not remorse that he is gay, that part changes nothing of my love for my child; but remorse for all the years that I didn’t know. How much pain had he endured all those years? Was he fighting it? Was he praying that God would change him? Did he think it would change my love for him? My beautiful amazing son that God himself made exactly as he was, was he feeling that I might think less of him? Remorse hit hard and I had to learn to forgive myself so that I could move on.

The Fear is Overwhelming at Times
Once the shock and remorse began to wane, another emotion reared its head. This one hit harder than the first two combined and it is not one that I will entirely overcome. This emotion is unimaginable fear. Fear because there is so much hate in this world and often the LGBTQ community is the target of this hate. From the moment I heard the words, “mom I’m gay”, there has not been a day without that fear entering my awareness. It does not go away. Not ever. I’m reminded of it each day when I see hate being spread in social media like wild fire. I learn to live with it and I remain steadfast in my belief of a higher power that ultimately will allow love to conquer hate.

Then Life Happens
But then, even with that belief, an event like the Orlando Night Club shooting will happen and it cuts to my very core. My heart literally breaks for the other moms. The moms whose most horrific fears were realized. After an event like this, it takes a while to regain my sense of strength so that I can go on without the fear consuming me.

But, alas, I must continue my journey as a mom. I love my child completely so I must look beyond the fear. It is time I decide to stand strong and push the fear to the deepest crevasse in my mind; knowing that I must allow the love to be stronger than the fear. And THAT is when I recognize that PRIDE truly outweighs every other emotion – including the fear.

It was at this point, once my journey had taken me through all the other emotions, I began to swell with PRIDE. PRIDE that he not only survived holding this deep secret for so long, but he thrived. He remained solid in his own faith and convictions. He held onto his own self-worth and when the world was pulling him down and felt he couldn’t reach out to his own family, he stood strong. Yes, PRIDE began to fill my heart.

The Pride Grows
The PRIDE continues as I admire this young man. He is so considerate of those who judge him; instead of getting angry, he simply respects their feelings and forgives them. He comes home for Christmas year after year alone; never bringing the man that he shares his life with. Not because he wouldn’t be accepted in our home, but because my son is more concerned that his elderly grandfather will feel uncomfortable than he is with his own desire to share the holiday with his partner.

For me, the PRIDE grows even bigger when I see the man he has become. A compassionate, kind, strong, ethical human being and such a blessing to know. I am so proud to the be the mom of a gay son. God honored me personally because He knew that I would not only love this child that He created, but that I would stand for him, fight for him, protect him, and honor him with absolutely every fiber of my being.

I Will Celebrate
So, yes, I celebrate PRIDE Month. I celebrate it with more PRIDE than I ever knew I could feel. I celebrate not just for the PRIDE I have in my own amazing son, but for the PRIDE I feel for the entire LGBTQ community. These wonderful people who have been unfairly judged discriminated against, hurt, exiled from their families in many cases, and abused in others. A tribe that remains authentic to their souls and they stand strong. I feel PRIDE that my son opened my eyes to a world where I would notice things I might otherwise have missed.

For me, (and many other moms like me) PRIDE Month is a sacred time that honors a blessed journey that we, the moms, are privileged to travel.

Cynthia Corsetti is a member of Serendipitydodah for Moms who also blogs at CynthiaCorsetti.com

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears” The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and as of November 2018 has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

1984. After hanging up the phone, I went and turned on the shower. Standing in there crying, head upon the wall. Thinking everything I knew for years in fundamental Christianity was washing down the drain with my tears.

It wasn’t my son, yet. It was my brother who had just came out to me as gay. Gay in an era when people still whispered in church pews about anyone who even remotely seemed different than the picture perfect post card we all joked about. You know, the postcard with the picture of a white (straight) American Christian.

At that moment everything I knew about Christian life was now over. For if God was going to hate my brother, he would have to hate me too. The search began as I tried to imagine how a loving God could reject any child of his?

Of course, the normal happened. I was asked to shut up or leave church. So I left. I started studying every theology book I could find. It was a tough study, but, I was no longer going to rely upon a preacher to teach me. I wanted to know what great minds of history had to say.

No internet yet, just a soul seeking knowing in my spirit that God had to be more vast than the minds teaching Christ.

In 1989, my third son, Chad, was born, by the time he was five, we realized this creative child was unique himself. So, when he “came out” at fifteen it was more a celebration of him being able to feel comfortable with himself. To be comfortable in his family. To be fully loved and embraced.

Today, in this family, we joke about half of our extended relatives being gay. Some are “adopted in” as we will wrap our arms around any who need a family.

It’s normal, it’s just real life, it’s just family. We don’t even think about who is gay or who is straight. We are just family.

“I’m gay, please don’t make me leave, I like living here, I like our family, please don’t make me leave …”

My heart shattered. I’m not going to lie, the homosexuality part terrified me to my core, but what shredded my Momma heart was knowing my precious son really thought we would kick him to the curb because of it. My beloved boy who was once a literal part of my body and was then a living, breathing, 17-year-old piece of my heart walking around in a man’s body. Not possible that I would ever turn him away. And I felt like a total failure as a mom that I had not gotten that message clearly and deeply embedded into his brain.

A seed of determination was planted that day, although I didn’t fully realize it in the swirling vortex of negative emotions that overwhelmed for the next many months – fear, isolation, despair, regret, guilt, doubt, anger, depression. As a conservative Christian, I believed my trusted, worn, NIV Bible said homosexuality was a sin. I knew Satan was a lion seeking to devour, and I believed my son was on the ground, belly exposed to those snapping jaws. It was my job, my DUTY as mom to swoop in and save him from the devil’s blood lust.

I had been dropped into the most desperate spiritual battle of my life. And I was going to call on the power of my mighty God, and we were going to win.

That IS what happened. But not exactly how I envisioned it.

I am one of those weird people who enjoys playing Monopoly. But only once I’m actually playing it. Prior to that, I avoid it like the plague, knowing that once I commit, I’ve given up the next several hours. I say no to whoever is asking me to play and stand strong until lots of begging finally plants me in front of that time-suck colorful cardboard square. God simply skipped the cajoling part, shoved a little metal shoe in my hand, placed me emphatically on square one and yelled “GO” in big red letters into my ear. He knows me so well.

My wise, all-knowing Father and I started rolling the dice and making our plays. What is interesting to me in hindsight, is I thought He and I were playing the same token. On the same team, as partners, working towards the same winning move of saving my son from the temptation of his same-sex attractions. What I came to realize much later is that I, in my human fallibility, could never be partners with God. We were on the same team, but our mission was different. I was working towards a win for my son; God was working towards a win for me.

What, ME? I’m not gay; this couldn’t be about me! There is nothing wrong with me …. Oops, ok, maybe some self-righteousness in there, but nothing as bad as homosexual- … yes, ok, I heard that one. Serious self-righteousness going on here. God, I got Your message, I’ll get to work on that so you and I can go back to the goal of fixing my son.

I’m kind of dense sometimes.

Many months and many grace-filled Get Out of Jail Free cards later, and I knew why God had made me play with the broken shoe instead of the cool car. I needed to get me out of the driver’s seat and let God lead me where HE wanted me to go.

If I’ve lost you in analogies, what I’m trying to say is I had it wrong all along. I thought the issue that needed addressing was my son’s homosexuality. In reality, the issue was my self-righteousness and lack of faith. In God’s seemingly backwards way of doing things, He used my son to get to me. To work on me. My son’s homosexuality changed my Christianity completely. Beautifully. Not in spite of him being gay, but because he is gay.

As I studied the various word choices in biblical translations, as I studied the culture of the time in which the bible was written, as I let the word of God come alive with the Word of God (Holy Spirit, see John 1:1) the verses spoke to me in different ways than ever before. Instead of attempting to read a 2,000-year-old book through a modern lens, my goal became reading a 2,000-year-old book through a 2,000-year-old lens and applying it to modern times. Big difference. Passages I had read hundreds of time in my Christian life took on new meanings. I saw the scriptures on homosexuality as they were intended – addressing rape and pederasty (abusive adult male to young male sexual practice that lasted through many hundreds of years in ancient Greek culture) and overindulgence, not modern, loving, monogamous same-sex relationships. That gave me peace, and was a nice appetizer, but the main course was still being served.

God opened my heart to people. All people. To His humanity. To the fringe, the hurting, the outcast, the poor.

Along the journey, God and I made a pit stop with Free Mom Hugs. Free Mom Hugs is an organization of Christian Moms of LGBTQ kids who are loving their kids unconditionally and sharing that love with others. At the time, I hadn’t quite gotten to where I saw homosexuality as a part of God’s beautiful creation, but I recognized His love when I saw it. The first time I put on a Free Mom Hugs pin at an LGBTQ event, I was overwhelmed at the need. Kids and adults alike were drawn to the Mom love – something I had always taken for granted, and something that should be a given. I saw that it wasn’t. I was humbled to the point of embarrassment, and still am, when LGBTQ people tell me thank you for giving Free Mom Hugs. For supporting my son. I want to shout, “That’s what ALL moms should do!!” It hurts me and angers me and moves me. Moms, and dads, should love their kids. Period. End of story.

But the reality is, unconditional love isn’t just the realm of moms. It is the realm of Christ. Of Christians.

God used homosexuality to show me how wrong I had His message. I’m not here to identify the sin in others. I’m not here to change others. When I start to think I’m even capable of that, I know I’ve fallen back into the pit of self-righteousness and need to climb my way back out again. I’m here for one thing and one thing only – to love God completely and to share God’s amazing, empowering, unconditional love with everyone I meet. (Ok, two things.) God has got the rest.

My story as a Christian mom of a gay son has changed. The story I would’ve told even a year ago was the story of how I made the switch from non-affirming to affirming, and the difficulties and challenges I faced. How we lost some of our family in the process. How scared we still are that we might lose more. How silence has become the norm when the topic comes up. I would’ve (and have) told of the different books I’ve read and people I’ve met and talked with and fallen in love with. How I see Sodom and Gomorrah differently. How Paul’s life and times affect how I now read his books. A year ago, I talked about conversations I had with my son in which he shared what it really was like to be gay, and how different it was than what I had always thought. How that affected me.

Those things are all true. That story is important. And I’ve watched many moms and dads and siblings go through that same journey. It’s such a hard one. But, fellow travelers, when you battle your own fears and make the trip, it’s so much different than you expect. So much better. God fills you with love … such love …

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free!

My God my Savior has ransomed me.

And like a flood His mercy reins.

Unending love, amazing grace.

I look back three and a half years ago to when I saw the world as I knew it crumble. I remember the failure I felt as a mom that my son thought even for a second I might abandon him for something I then saw as sin. That wasn’t just a Mom failure, that was a Christian failure.

I have been fighting the spiritual battle of my life. But it wasn’t for my son’s endangered soul, as I had thought. It was for my own. And my God and I, we are going to win.

Dena Edwards is a member of Serendipitydodah for Moms and is helping to make the Free Mom Hugs 2018 Tour a reality.

The Free Moms Hugs 2018 Tour plans to take off from Oklahoma on May 4, 2018 and stop at 10 cities over a two week period. One of the highlights of the tour will be a visit to the Matthew Shepherd Memorial on Mother’s Day. You can visit the Free Mom Hugs Facebook page here for more info.

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of lgbtq kids. The official motto is “Better Together” and the members call themselves “Mama Bears” The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and as of November 2018 has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

“Haven’t I always told you that there is nothing you could ever say, do, want, think, need, or be that would keep me from loving you?” These words closed my late-night text conversation with our son when he came out to me, five years ago today.

He was a junior in college and I had just finished watching his fraternity’s “It Gets Better” video. Although other students in the video identified themselves as gay or ally, he did not. When I heard my only child say, “I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere, and that I was really weird,” and “You don’t have to live in the shadows,” I knew he was saying he is gay.

I’ll never forget my emotions when the next evening he told his dad and me: “I want to live my life in the light. People who are forced to live in the dark do dark things, and I choose to live in the light.” He said he’d always known he was gay and he was relieved that we could accept him. That broke my heart because we more than accept him; we love him.

Among my emotions that night was relief, because since he was a small child I’d thought he might “turn out to be” gay, not yet understanding that, indeed, he was born gay. Always such a gentle and empathetic boy, I was relieved that he felt he could be honest with us. I knew that it took a lot of courage, because, sadly, too many kids are disowned when they come out.

I also felt fear. The fear I had started tamping down from when he was only a toddler, as hateful rhetoric spilled from the television about the military’s “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy, and again when he was four and the Defense of Marriage Act mandated that marriage was only for straight people. Ellen DeGeneres came out when he was 5-years-old, and within months her sitcom was cancelled. But my fear greatly intensified when our son was in grade school, and young Matthew Shepard was horrifically and brutally murdered at the hands of homophobic bullies. And, just two weeks after our son left for college, Rutgers University sophomore Tyler Clementi tragically jumped to his death after bullies shattered his life by invading his privacy.

I also felt sadness – sad that when he was in middle school, I tried to “steer him” away from being gay – like he had a choice. Although I’d had gay friends, I knew their lives were difficult because of how they were treated, and I didn’t want that for my boy. And, I was sad about the daughter-in-law and grandchildren I had envisioned. I now know that even if one’s “life script” changes, the happily-ever-after story doesn’t have to – just re-cast the characters.

Next, I started worrying about how to publicly acknowledge this new reality. I had been raised in the school of “what will people say” and what worried me most was what I already knew the people of the United Methodist Church would say. I’d heard what those at the UMC where we’d raised our son thought of LGBTQ people, and I’m ashamed to admit I never called them on it. Why? I was afraid that doing so would cast doubt on my son’s sexuality. So, when he came out of the closet, I took my relief, sadness and fear into my own closet to gather myself for the coming battle I sensed.

Darkness of Judgment and Anger
I began reading and studying everything I could find, including Justin Lee’s book “Torn;” Savage & Miller’s “It Gets Better;” and Betty DeGeneres’ beautiful story, “Love, Ellen.” With education came growth and also the next stage: being open about our love and support of our son – and confronting those who tried to convince us we were wrong. That included the church where we’d worshipped for nearly 25 years.

I was so angry about the UMC’s stiff-necked stupidity! Just four weeks after our son came out in 2013, Republican Ohio Senator Rob Portman, whose son is also gay, announced a “change of heart” and supported gay couples’ opportunity to marry. In response, the so-called church “ladies” said horrible things about LGBTQ people during Bible study. Even though I explained with my newfound knowledge that the “clobber verses” they quoted did not say what they had been taught to believe, just two weeks later – when basketball star Magic Johnson’s son came out – the same ugly things were said. In my opinion, the verse that really does the clobbering is John 13:34-35.

I am thankful that during the height of our painful shunning by church members – including those in our share group – we attended a Reconciling Ministries Network class, “When Kids Come Out,” where I first met fellow Mama Bears and was invited to join this loving online community. The warmth and counsel from other mothers who also love and affirm their LGBTQ children has been a balm and bolster. A balm in that for the first time I was no longer alone, and a bolster in their encouragement to stand up and speak out to defend LGBTQ people from the fear and hate engendered by ignorant misinterpretation of scripture and the resulting harmful stereotyping.

My husband and I had already begun “shaking the dust off our feet,” searching for an open and affirming church, when we received an invitation from our UMC’s pastor to lead a new share group. So we decided to take another shot at educating church members and proposed a group for “Families and Loved Ones of LGBTQ persons.” We were called into the office where I was horrified to be told: “This issue will not be discussed. Not here, not now, not ever.” After several months of trying to inform him and soften his heart, we had a loud, unpleasant blow-out that ended with our terminating our membership. It was necessary, but painful to leave the church community we had been part of for so long, and where we knew other families – still in the closet – remained silent about their children. In 2020, the UMC will have a final chance to vote yes on inclusion.

Embracing Light

I am certain that if being LGBTQ were “incompatible with Christian teaching,” as the UMC says, then Jesus would have said something about it. The fact is that “Christian teaching” and “Christ’s teaching” are two different things. Christian teaching is all about the rulebook – who’s in and who’s out. But Christ’s teaching is about inclusive love. Love is what matters most; love is what matters in the end. Jesus even gave a new commandment about it.

My views on the value of having organized religion and church in one’s life have sharply shifted – I no longer think it’s always helpful; instead it’s usually harmful. However, I do believe that the pervasive spirit of what many call “God” is real. I don’t believe God “listens to” or responds to prayer, blessing some while ignoring or punishing others. Instead, I believe that contemplation of the presence of God keeps me in the flow of the spirit, aware and attuned to living in the light. Indeed, Jesus promised us the Holy Spirit as counselor to help us understand things not yet comprehensible. He even warned us against resisting the transformative work of the Spirit.

Since I became a Mama Bear three years ago, basking in this nurturing network of friends and sisters, I’ve been able to turn my anger into action. These mothers have helped me develop the courage and the confidence to be an outspoken advocate for the LGBTQ community. I serve on the national diversity & inclusion committee for my professional association; I write articles and give presentations on writing/speaking and making the business case for LGBTQ inclusion; I am president of our local PFLAG chapter, and, of course, I encourage other mothers. Together, my husband and I financially support advocacy organizations, march in the Pride Parade and explore new ways of understanding and being one with God.

So much has changed, but what remains unchanged is how very much we love our son and how proud we are of who he is: Our son is an honorable man. He is happy, fun and outgoing, devoted to his true friends and to his family. He is educated and interested in his profession, dedicated to helping his organization’s clients realize their own passion for serving nonprofit agencies. Our son is artistic, creative and talented, launching Olly Awake, a gender equal clothing line to positively impact those who want to be their own best versions. And, he is also an advocate for equality, volunteering with the Human Rights Campaign, and other groups that advance justice and inclusion for the LGBTQ community. Most importantly, our son is out of the closet, living his life in the light.

________________________________________________

Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and as of November 2018 has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com

My journey as a Mama Bear began, remains and will likely end on a quest for forgiveness and grace.

Our firstborn, Dina Clare, was in her senior year of high school when I accidentally “outed” my daughter. It was the spring of 2000, when computer access for our family of four was on a shared desktop computer in our living room.

One night, while working after everyone else was in bed, I came across several unfamiliar poems. This was not unusual. Dina was a prolific writer who.often wrote and embellished her work on the computer. She had already had pieces published and awarded in youth competitions, including poetry slams.

I always tried to cool down while I shifted from work to sleep. That night I treated myself to a poetry reading. In short order, I realized that I had stumbled upon our daughter’s coming out story.

The set of several new poems put into words how Dina, along with her long-time boyfriend, were dealing with the fact that she was feeling a romantic attraction to a younger student in their group of friends — a girl.

My first feeling was relief. I suspected that something major had been troubling Dina, beyond the usual senior year angst. I also had sensed that a struggle was going on in our daughter’s first serious relationship. I had asked Dina a few questions in a private moment, but she didn’t want to talk about it. I respected that.

Finally, Dina’s mood swings made more sense. The weekend before, at a typical Saturday gathering of teens in our living room, I had observed our daughter’s delight in the presence of the young woman who was the object of Dina’s “crush.”

That the poems were devoted to a girl did not come as a huge surprise. Dina’s dad and I loved her unconditionally. Since she was very young — we had observed a variety of things about our firstborn’s unique way of being that pointed in this direction.

We had friends and colleagues who were gay and lesbian, so we didn’t have an acceptance problem. We had raised our daughter and son in a home that regularly hosted large gatherings, welcoming guests from all backgrounds and orientations. “Normal” for them meant spending time with people of various faiths, ethnicities, education and economic levels, as well as relationship status.

It was so hard not to wake up my slumbering husband. I barely slept that night,.worrying about to help Dina with her emotional struggles without wounding our trust. I feared that she would feel angry that I had come upon her secret before she was ready to tell me.

So, I prayed for guidance. I felt called to be patient — not this Mama Bear’s strongest suit. I resolved to wait and apologize profusely when the right opportunity came to mention my discovery of her poems.

Although it seemed like forever, no more than a week passed before the moment arrived. Dina and I were stuck in traffic on our twice-weekly drive to her synchronized swimming team practice. She was dejected and more dramatic than usual — about other cars, her AP English teacher, her youth symphony conductor, life in general.

After letting her rant for awhile, I breathed deeply and said, “I remember how stressful senior year was for me. Is it choosing a college or worrying about grades? Or something else…? Can I help?”

She burst into sobs. “There’s no way you would understand what I’m going through!”

I paused. “I think I do. You left some poems on the computer,” I said quietly as I touched her arm.

Then the crying kicked into high gear. I couldn’t decipher what she saying between gulping breaths.

I tried to soothe her. “I’m so sorry I read your new poems without asking first. It’s okay, there’s no problem at all. I just want to help.”

“How can you say that, after what you said?” My precious daughter moaned through gritted teeth..

I was at a total loss. She knew I was not anti- gay or lesbian. Didn’t she?

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetie,” I said gently.

Dina glared at the traffic in front of us while she sniffled, arms crossed tightly, as if to shield herself from a blow.

“You were pretty clear about what you think of people who are bisexual,” she finally said.

An incident came back to me in a rush. About a year earlier, when I was driving the kids to their high school, there was something on the radio about bisexuality.

I — a person who was raised by Catholic parents who loudly proclaimed that homosexuality was a ticket to hell — felt at that point like I had made so much progress! I was enlightened, the first in my family to graduate from college, with degrees in psychology and writing. I totally understood that some people were wired differently from the beginning of life. Some men loved men, some women loved women. Some people felt like the opposite sex on the inside. Furthermore, professionally I was recognized as an advocate for the rights of gay, lesbian and transgender members and staff in my organization.

And yet.

My words of that particular morning came back to me like a flood — words I can never take away and that Dina can never “unhear.” In my ignorance, I rudely had scoffed, “I just don’t get bi- people. It’s like they are promiscuous and want all their options open.”

I don’t remember how Dina and Hunter reacted in the car. For me, it had been a throwaway comment. As I now know, for them it was crushing to hear their mom say something so hateful and hurtful.

Now both my daughter and I were crying on the freeway. Mine were tears of shame and regret. I immediately begged for my daughter’s forgiveness and asked her to tell me more about her feelings. I assured her that I had been thoughtless and wrong. I assured her that nothing would change how much I loved and admired her. We couldn’t hug while I was driving, but we clasped hands.

Dina granted my request for forgiveness over and over again. I had a lot to learn with her help, and our son’s. They, and lots of study, have helped me to understand my error andembrace the expansive spectrum of sexuality and gender.

Once we were home that night, we immediately filled in my husband. He and I asked for Dina’s guidance on her expectations about if, when and how we would share her “coming out.” Actually, that’s the last time I will use that term in my story. I prefer to say that Dina “came into” her wonderfully created authentic self.

In the winter of her freshman year of college, Dina met Desiree — who is now her wife. From the beginning, we were delighted to see how the two of them brought out the best in each other. As time passed and their relationship continued to deepen, Dina said it was fine to share their relationship with others as it came up in natural conversation.

For the most part family and friends were delighted that Dina was dating again and so happy. In March 2004 the girls became engaged on the third anniversary of their first date, and we threw a huge party to celebrate.

The notable naysayers, not surprisingly, were my parents back in Minnesota. They sent Dina and Desiree a very hurtful letter that I will never read. Even their priest told them not to send it when they showed it to him. In the version that my very accepting younger brother saw, my parents condemned the girls for their lifestyle and predicted eternal damnation for all of us who didn’t agree with Roman Catholic dogma.

Mom and Dad are blind to what their behavior has cost them — how much they hurt themselves, how much they miss. Dina, Desiree and our son are amazing adults who are an absolute treasure to be with. Since 2001, on the rare occasions when my parents came from Minnesota to be with my family in Washington, everyone was awkwardly civil, mostly to placate me.

The girls’ wedding in 2011, officiated by one of our family’s best friends, was a wonderful week with friends and family who traveled from Australia and the U.S. to celebrate in Hawai’i. Our son’s University of Washington Law School graduation in 2014 was such a proud day.

My parents were not invited to either event, at my children’s insistence.

Each day I prayerfully consider how Dina forgave me that night in 2000. It’s the only way I manage to remain in regular contact with my parents, despite their unabashed rejection of my child and all “homos,” as they say. I ask for God’s grace so I can honor the Fourth Commandment. But I am a Daughter Bear as well as Mama. I don’t back down from my belief in the expansive wonder of God’s creation. I value the scientific method and how humans have increased our understanding of how genetics and neurobiology.

And I pray fervently that my parents eventually will look beyond their deep-seated prejudices and into the loving heart of their granddaughter.

My husband and children hold out little hope for reconciliation, which breaks my heart. There have been too many words of condemnation — couched as “love the sinners, hate the sins” — for them to believe that my parents ever will change.

However, I just can’t abandon my hope for a miracle before my parents pass on. And without fail, each time I choose forgiveness I feel the flow of grace as a balm to my wounded heart.

________________________________________________Serendipitydodah for Moms is a private Facebook group for moms of LGBTQ kids. Our official motto is “We Are Better Together” and our nickname is “Mama Bears”

The group is private so only members can see who is in the group and what is posted in the group. It was started in June 2014 and as of November 2018 has more than 3,700 members. For more info about the private facebook group email lizdyer55@gmail.com